but you're not getting anywhere

today i feel: pretty okay
today i'm hearing: snow patrol -- songs for polar bears
today i'm thinking: that it cannot just be wednesday

The Christmas season is officially over (thank God), at least according to my calendar: we had munchies last night with Mo and Paul. It was a fun time, I assure you. I now have book money! Alas, this means I want to spend said book money. I cannot, however, do that because a.) I have no car from whence to go to the place of book-money-spendage and 2.) I ought to save said book money so that when Dr Rush assigns about a million plays that I do not have, I can actually, you know, buy them. Which is a novel concept, I'm sure. Haha. Book joke.

They left and I went back to my little hobbit hole and quickly removed my pants and started a load of laundry. My family has just sort of accepted the fact that I do laundry at odd times of the day and night. My theory on this is that if my trousers are in the laundry, what am I supposed to have on my arse? It is not acceptable in polite society to not have anything covering your more-exciting half. Besides, I like trousers. It's shirts I hate. This is something my family is not used to. My mum came down to check on me last night or maybe yesterday morning, and I was hanging with Jo Charles, the macy-Mac, in sleepy pants and bra -- which is what I usually wear when I'm just chilling with Jo -- and she couldn't figure out why. I apologise for that amazing run-on sentence, as well as the possible overload of information. I'm prone to that at this hour of the morning.

I got bored last night, mostly because I was puzzled by a random phone call I got from Chicago, as well as the fact that I had NOTHING to do. Nothing. I repeat: nothing. So I did what I usually do when I get bored and have nothing to do: I got out my Sharpies and started doodling on myself. My da tells me this will give me cancer. I choose to ignore what he says. So I started drawing and thinking; I don't know, maybe you do it too. And I suddenly realised something that I thought was kind of cool about myself. It is possible, if you know me well enough, to know how I am feeling by not only seeing what I'm drawing on myself and the fact that I am drawing on myself, but where I draw on myself. Let me 'splain. When I find myself troubled in an emotional sense (ie. angsty), I have a tendency to draw on the top of my wrist, where normal people put their watches. When I'm being a total spazz or really, really happy, I draw on my tummy. My tummy makes me happy. When I am feeling frustrated, especially when I feel sexually frustrated in some way, shape, or form, I draw on my legs. And when I'm in a really whimsical mood, I draw on my feet. I never really noticed this before. But I got to thinking about it last night, as I was sitting there drawing on myself, and it is, in fact, true.

Last night, I drew my tribute to Greek Love (which I think looks kind of cool, but that's just me) on my left foot, ankle, and shin. I think this means that I'm really worked up, but not too upset about it. I'm not sure if that's a healthy feeling in the slightest. I would take a picture to show all of you, but I don't like my feet enough to let other people see them. Ask Paige. It is super-true.

Today is Laura's nineteenth birthday! Yay! Birthdays! Today actually starts a long line of birthdays that I have to remember. And by 'long line' I mean 'four out of the next five days have people's birthdays on them'. Which is awesome, but possibly expensive, were I a good enough person to actually buy presents for everyone's birthday. As is, I am not. Thus, I utilise one of my favourite inventions: the telephone! (My other favourite inventions include record players and toothbrushes.) However, I think I will only be calling three of the four people with birthdays, as one of them will probably not be keen on talking to me at all. I will just have to find some other, more covert way of wishing them a happy birthday. I think birthdays are pretty important things. If it weren't for birthdays, you wouldn't be here! That, and I've had my fair share of shitty birthdays in my life, so I try to do my best to make sure that other people have at least one good thing happen on theirs. I'm pretty good at remembering birthdays, too, which makes them more important to me. Perhaps this is why I do not like, or do well in math.

I actually have had a few adventures over break, while in the greater B-Town area. I know I've been writing about a lot of trivialities as of late, but I think this is primarily because I want to save material for when I actually talk to people. That, and it's really nice to kind of just...vomit out all of the silly stuff I think about when I'm bored and trying to distract myself. Which I definitely do more than I ought to. This is why God invented Blogging: so people like me, who have a tendency to think of very elaborate but inherently stupid things, have some way to express all of the ridiculous nonsense they come up with so that their brains don't explode and they don't waste a lot of paper. I know that there are blogs out there that are incredibly intelligent and important, some of which I even find myself reading at times. And every time I come across one I think, 'Huh! Maybe I should be more like that'. It's not going to happen, though. Not at this point in time.

You know something kind of funny? I've had this blog since the summer after middle school. Looking back, this blog and I have been through a great deal together. All of those awkward, angsty, insanely annoying Teenage Years. I'm kind of frightened to go back and look at them. Gross. I'm well-aware of the fact that, one day, I will have a Real Job (HA! HA HA HA!) and have to go find a newer, Grown-Up (HA! HA HA HA!) blog, or none at all. And I think, when that time comes, I'm going to miss Blue Punch. Thankfully, I really don't have to think of that right now. Right now, I'm still embarrassingly naïve enough to write about all of those trivial things and all of the Teenage Angst and not be too worried about what people will think. This, I think, is the blessing of youth. And the great thing about being in the arts is that you can be a kid forever and no one will care.

Ah. It's good to be aware of how appaulling unresponsible you are, at least within your own mind. Yes, I am perfectly aware of how ridiculous I am.